New entries up which I forgot to post about. Â You can click the links to go see them on tumblr, or click the spoiler box to read them here. Â Thanks!
Entry Six.Â
Entry Seven.
The First Kidney.
(Link-only read)
Her Chapter 1.
Entry Six.Â
Show Content
Spoiler
I am a shell of a person.
No.  I am a doctor.  I save lives.  I help others.  I even put up a nice little notice in my Company’s house to give physicals to the members.
I’m supposed to think of three things… objects or scents that define me.
Blood.  The smell, and the taste.  Not that I go around drinking blood, that would be disgusting, but there’s something about the smell of it that will get my adrenaline going.  It means that I’m working usually.  Cutting someone open, or fixing their wounds.  There’s a high that comes along with the scent.
…. Who the fuck can ever think of three scents or objects that define them?  I’ve got a lot going on.  I’m… in therapy.  I’m working, making progress with my research.  I’m treating patients.  I’m even… dating.  Is it dating?  It’s certainly something that makes me feel uneasy and strange.  My stomach has been off a lot recently.  Sometimes I think it’s feelings, and then I remember the formula I created myself to flush my reproductive system. A patient of mine also causes me a great amount of stress.  I find I’m allowing myself to… try and feel things.  Though I almost vomited when he told me that we’re falling in love.  Not because I’m disgusted by him, but… I just.  … Me?  In love?  Hah.  Though I don’t think I hid the fact that it seemed to upset me well.  … I gave him a fistbump and I left.
Three objects… one down, two to go.
… I’ve got nothing.  I enjoy my work.  … Doesn’t that count as something that defines me?  Do I really need to jump and play games in order to not be a… shell?  I’m just not understanding.
Maybe I need to go out.  Play games…  meet new people.
On the plus side to everything, I’ve had great success so far with my most recent experiment.  I have a seventy five percent artificial kidney in working order, filtering as it should be.  Of course it’s in a test environment, so I’d have to place it inside a person to see how it will function in reality.  I have a man coming in sell me one of his kidneys soon, so perhaps I can get him to sign up to be a test subject on trying the one I’ve created.  If this is a success, then I move on to attempting to create an artificial shell for the insides.  I’ve tried a completely artificial organ before, but found that the body rejected it even if it worked in a test environment.  I need to figure out how to get it to work inside the body.
Two things.
I can’t even think of a food that I enjoy.  I would probably just skip eating all together if I could take a pill to keep me alive.I love drinking alcohol.  I love drugs.  … Though I don’t feel that they define me.  They are required so I don’t become so tense that I can’t work.  Just like sex.  It is required for me to partake in some things or mentally, I become irritable and unable to concentrate on my research.
My research will define me. Â Once I am successful. Â
Â
I am a shell of a person.
No.  I am a doctor.  I save lives.  I help others.  I even put up a nice little notice in my Company’s house to give physicals to the members.
I’m supposed to think of three things… objects or scents that define me.
Blood.  The smell, and the taste.  Not that I go around drinking blood, that would be disgusting, but there’s something about the smell of it that will get my adrenaline going.  It means that I’m working usually.  Cutting someone open, or fixing their wounds.  There’s a high that comes along with the scent.
…. Who the fuck can ever think of three scents or objects that define them?  I’ve got a lot going on.  I’m… in therapy.  I’m working, making progress with my research.  I’m treating patients.  I’m even… dating.  Is it dating?  It’s certainly something that makes me feel uneasy and strange.  My stomach has been off a lot recently.  Sometimes I think it’s feelings, and then I remember the formula I created myself to flush my reproductive system. A patient of mine also causes me a great amount of stress.  I find I’m allowing myself to… try and feel things.  Though I almost vomited when he told me that we’re falling in love.  Not because I’m disgusted by him, but… I just.  … Me?  In love?  Hah.  Though I don’t think I hid the fact that it seemed to upset me well.  … I gave him a fistbump and I left.
Three objects… one down, two to go.
… I’ve got nothing.  I enjoy my work.  … Doesn’t that count as something that defines me?  Do I really need to jump and play games in order to not be a… shell?  I’m just not understanding.
Maybe I need to go out.  Play games…  meet new people.
On the plus side to everything, I’ve had great success so far with my most recent experiment.  I have a seventy five percent artificial kidney in working order, filtering as it should be.  Of course it’s in a test environment, so I’d have to place it inside a person to see how it will function in reality.  I have a man coming in sell me one of his kidneys soon, so perhaps I can get him to sign up to be a test subject on trying the one I’ve created.  If this is a success, then I move on to attempting to create an artificial shell for the insides.  I’ve tried a completely artificial organ before, but found that the body rejected it even if it worked in a test environment.  I need to figure out how to get it to work inside the body.
Two things.
I can’t even think of a food that I enjoy.  I would probably just skip eating all together if I could take a pill to keep me alive.I love drinking alcohol.  I love drugs.  … Though I don’t feel that they define me.  They are required so I don’t become so tense that I can’t work.  Just like sex.  It is required for me to partake in some things or mentally, I become irritable and unable to concentrate on my research.
My research will define me. Â Once I am successful. Â
Â
Entry Seven.
Show Content
Spoiler
I have decided to allow myself to feel emotions at the expense of my research.  Some may think that this is a figurative statement, that… feelings decided to beat out work and research, and now I shall become a third harpywife.  No, that is not it at all. Â
As for… feelings happening.  I’ve told Otto that he’s no longer allowed to propose to me.  Each time he does, it feels cheap and it doesn’t mean anything.  It sounds like a flippant business arrangement.  That, and I have absolutely no desire to be one of his wives.  Since meeting them it’s been clear that it is not the life for me.  After speaking with one, she made it clear there isn’t even love involved and the second one seems to just want to do nothing with her life and spend all of his money, which to me- is disgusting.  How he considers that a family, who knows.  Perhaps it is because he is as broken as I am.  He mentioned a first wife, before the two he has now.  … Perhaps the loss of her broke him and he turned into… the monster I met.
Though he’s far from that monster now, when we’re alone.  It is far from conventional and it is something that probably no one would understand.  If I saw myself from the outside I’d likely call myself a fucking idiot.  It’s likely why I have not been brave enough to venture in the public eye with him.  I may be there soon, but not yet.  I’ve never been one to seek attention.  It’s not something I want.  I’m good with quiet.  I’m good with it being private.  With our arrangement, I am left free to see whoever I please, if someone would please me.  Not that I’m looking for anything or anyone else.  Perhaps I should try to get back into making friends.
And of course, as this happens, my work is destroyed.  Granted, I have valuable research and notes taken.  I could likely recreate my work, but having a functioning prototype is the only way I’ll be able to have anyone actually see what I’m trying to accomplish.  Things on paper means that I don’t have something that’s actually working in a human being.  It was so close to being installed.  To see it there on the ground in pieces… it was horrible.  I almost vomited.  I couldn’t sleep- stayed all night trying to put it all back together, but I couldn’t.  It has been suggested that I try a liver, instead of a kidney.  Livers would certainly make me more money from the get-go, drunkards around the world wanting to be able to drink again.  It’s not really to save those that need to be saved… I’d rather save a life that wasn’t wasted in alcohol and drugs.  … Not that I am a saint, though I have taken my own advice and toned the partying down.  Livers will get me exposure.  I have a patient coming to my office to discuss payment for organs, so we’ll see if he’d be keen on donating a part of his liver for me to work on.  Though, seeing his condition and desperation for funds, I’m sure his liver isn’t healthy enough to be worked on.
I wish that there was more I can do, short of stealing someone’s organs.  I feel that somehow I’ll not have to resort to that.  Perhaps I’ll try a church or morgue.
I have decided to allow myself to feel emotions at the expense of my research.  Some may think that this is a figurative statement, that… feelings decided to beat out work and research, and now I shall become a third harpywife.  No, that is not it at all. Â
As for… feelings happening.  I’ve told Otto that he’s no longer allowed to propose to me.  Each time he does, it feels cheap and it doesn’t mean anything.  It sounds like a flippant business arrangement.  That, and I have absolutely no desire to be one of his wives.  Since meeting them it’s been clear that it is not the life for me.  After speaking with one, she made it clear there isn’t even love involved and the second one seems to just want to do nothing with her life and spend all of his money, which to me- is disgusting.  How he considers that a family, who knows.  Perhaps it is because he is as broken as I am.  He mentioned a first wife, before the two he has now.  … Perhaps the loss of her broke him and he turned into… the monster I met.
Though he’s far from that monster now, when we’re alone.  It is far from conventional and it is something that probably no one would understand.  If I saw myself from the outside I’d likely call myself a fucking idiot.  It’s likely why I have not been brave enough to venture in the public eye with him.  I may be there soon, but not yet.  I’ve never been one to seek attention.  It’s not something I want.  I’m good with quiet.  I’m good with it being private.  With our arrangement, I am left free to see whoever I please, if someone would please me.  Not that I’m looking for anything or anyone else.  Perhaps I should try to get back into making friends.
And of course, as this happens, my work is destroyed.  Granted, I have valuable research and notes taken.  I could likely recreate my work, but having a functioning prototype is the only way I’ll be able to have anyone actually see what I’m trying to accomplish.  Things on paper means that I don’t have something that’s actually working in a human being.  It was so close to being installed.  To see it there on the ground in pieces… it was horrible.  I almost vomited.  I couldn’t sleep- stayed all night trying to put it all back together, but I couldn’t.  It has been suggested that I try a liver, instead of a kidney.  Livers would certainly make me more money from the get-go, drunkards around the world wanting to be able to drink again.  It’s not really to save those that need to be saved… I’d rather save a life that wasn’t wasted in alcohol and drugs.  … Not that I am a saint, though I have taken my own advice and toned the partying down.  Livers will get me exposure.  I have a patient coming to my office to discuss payment for organs, so we’ll see if he’d be keen on donating a part of his liver for me to work on.  Though, seeing his condition and desperation for funds, I’m sure his liver isn’t healthy enough to be worked on.
I wish that there was more I can do, short of stealing someone’s organs.  I feel that somehow I’ll not have to resort to that.  Perhaps I’ll try a church or morgue.
The First Kidney.
(Link-only read)
Her Chapter 1.
Show Content
Spoiler
It was what you would call a whirlwind romance.  Swept away by the dashing and charming prince, Fiona fell too hard too soon.  She’d want to give him the things that others would never give him.  Genuine love and commitment.  He was always determined to go the other way.  To go towards the danger.  Towards the things that would never be real.
He’d come to her and tell her how much he loved her.  How much he valued her.  How she was above the rest.  She went as far as to legally bind herself to him… marrying him.  Fiona Cooper-Vann.Â
She’d defend the fact that he had others.  Telling herself that she was special.  It was amazing spending that time together…
She may have been special.  She probably was.  Though as she packed for a honeymoon in Coerthas, packing the insane amount of clothing he had gifted her with… it hit her.
This wasn’t her.
She made a mistake.
His other lovers kept saying that what him and her was real, they were so happy for them.  Fiona should be the one to give him a normal life.  … Why should she sacrifice having a normal life just to help him have one?  A life he’d never truly have if he didn’t leave them behind?
She loved him.  She said she loved him.  She wanted this to be her happily ever after.  … It wasn’t going to be though.  She was too young and too smart.  She saw the signs that said that this wasn’t how she was supposed to end up, but she got there anyway.  She refused to see the plain truth- that in the end he was going to be a thrill seeker and he would never slow down for her.  Marrying him was putting a band-aid on the problem.  It would work for a bit, but it wouldn’t change anything.
She’d look down at the rings and the bracelets.  The fancy robes she wore and the scantily clad clothing in her suitcase.  Slowly she’d start to take the jewelry off, tossing them in with the rest of the clothes, shutting the lid.
The end.
Chapter two…
It was what you would call a whirlwind romance.  Swept away by the dashing and charming prince, Fiona fell too hard too soon.  She’d want to give him the things that others would never give him.  Genuine love and commitment.  He was always determined to go the other way.  To go towards the danger.  Towards the things that would never be real.
He’d come to her and tell her how much he loved her.  How much he valued her.  How she was above the rest.  She went as far as to legally bind herself to him… marrying him.  Fiona Cooper-Vann.Â
She’d defend the fact that he had others.  Telling herself that she was special.  It was amazing spending that time together…
She may have been special.  She probably was.  Though as she packed for a honeymoon in Coerthas, packing the insane amount of clothing he had gifted her with… it hit her.
This wasn’t her.
She made a mistake.
His other lovers kept saying that what him and her was real, they were so happy for them.  Fiona should be the one to give him a normal life.  … Why should she sacrifice having a normal life just to help him have one?  A life he’d never truly have if he didn’t leave them behind?
She loved him.  She said she loved him.  She wanted this to be her happily ever after.  … It wasn’t going to be though.  She was too young and too smart.  She saw the signs that said that this wasn’t how she was supposed to end up, but she got there anyway.  She refused to see the plain truth- that in the end he was going to be a thrill seeker and he would never slow down for her.  Marrying him was putting a band-aid on the problem.  It would work for a bit, but it wouldn’t change anything.
She’d look down at the rings and the bracelets.  The fancy robes she wore and the scantily clad clothing in her suitcase.  Slowly she’d start to take the jewelry off, tossing them in with the rest of the clothes, shutting the lid.
The end.
Chapter two…
You live and you learn. Â At any rate- you live.
- Douglas Adams
- Douglas Adams
